Eye of the Raven
by XxScorpio-MoonxX
Summary: All I ever wanted was Death until he showed me a different way to live. But, like life itself, everything has a price and everything is eventually lost. ConnorOC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Ok, if I owned Angel, I would be molesting poor Vincent whatever-his-last-name-is and rolling in cash. However, I do own my OC, Raven and everything related to her.

A/N: It's happened………again. I've started a new fic, this time, an Angel one. I've been playing around with this plot for awhile and decided to finally give it a shot, seeing as I've been a huge fan of the show for a long time…….and I just love the character of Connor. I don't know why………probably the whole 'dark, brooding, suicidal poet' thing he's got going for him……anyway, let's get on with this shall we?

Summery: Raven is a half-demon, ridden with psychic powers and cursed with having to endure these powers for a millennia, unable to end her own life. Desperate and suicidal, Raven seeks for a being to put an end to her wretched existence…….. and chooses Connor. In a twisted game of cat-and-mouse, she tries to anger him into killing her and ending her visions - but what if the Angel gang wants to keep her alive for exactly those reasons?

In The Arms of Death

Prologue

Death…..

It seemed the word had been chasing itself in my head since the dawn of time. Even when I was a child and laying in my crib, I wondered if the word had planted itself in my subconscious. It seemed like my only friend, or even my only lover, the only thing I had left to cherish was the thought.

Damn him……. that bastard who had cursed me in all my half-demon glory. My crazy Christian father who thought to stop me from the ultimate sin (suicide, after I had attempted it at 18) by making me live…….. and live…….. and live……. seemingly forever, and everyday the images came.

Accidents, murders, deaths……….. deaths of everyone, but me. And that's how it went for decades, me, frozen in time, watching others die, but unable to die myself. Like dangling meat in front of a starving dog chained to the floor. I felt that helpless sometimes.

On occasion my fury would well up and before I knew it, an animalistic howl left my throat, lost and desolate against the never ending sky. Never-ending……like the lie I couldn't escape. I had challenged so many demons over the decades, fighting badly on purpose, trying to get the knife to enter my chest without making it obvious……and still, somehow, unbidden, they would die. I knew it was my father and I wanted to hunt him down so many times, but I never did.

Maybe I didn't think that he deserved my effort to find him and bitch him out. It would be useless in the end, he wouldn't lift the curse, and I wouldn't lay a hand on him. It would only send me in one big, meaningless circle, but not quit a waste of time. More of an occupant of time - seeing as it was all I had left.

Time……….. time……..and, just for a little change of pace…….. more time.

At least, that's what I thought. Until two nights ago when I had seen Him. The tall boy with light hair and hard eyes, killing anything demonic that walked into his path, and I had to say, I was smitten. Not only to his looks, but the power coming from him, the hatred, the pain, the sadness. I knew exactly what he was feeling, because I at some point, had felt it all before as well.

That and I felt the emotions of anyone within a twenty-foot radius of myself, but that was besides the point. To me, he looked exactly like the Angel of Death, come knocking on my doorstep. Now, all I had to do was find him again. He was obviously a demon slayer of some kind, and I knew just what to lure him with.

Smirking, I walked into a demon bar.

A few arrangements, and my stage would be set, all he had to do was answer.

I wish I knew his name. I struggled hard for a second, reaching out to spirits that were walking the streets, asking them the name of the boy I had seen. For a moment, I didn't think that anyone was going to answer until a women answered me. Not out loud, but through my mind as clearly as my ears.

Connor………… the son of a vampire……of Angelus, or what was left of him. Now overtaken by a soul and a conscious, a human heart within a monsters body. All of this information was being rattled into my ear like the buzzing of a fly and normally I would have been annoyed at finding such a chatty spirit, but I wasn't this time.

I took it all in like a child with candy.

Connor………… at least now I knew the name of what I hoped - and prayed- would be my savior, my idol, and finally……….my killer.

A/N:

Well, there we go, longer then most of my prologues. Surprising since it's like, 4 in the morning and I can hardly type over my yawning. Anyways, I have high hopes for this fic, and I love feedback - minus pointless flames that don't do anything by amuse me - so please, if you decided to read this, please leave a review and give me your opinion!


	2. First Impressions are Everything

Disclaimer: Don't own the show, but I do own Raven and her past.

A/N: Well, here's the first chapter of my new fic! Ok, first off this fic is set after Connor gets discovered about burying Angel alive and gets kicked out, but before Cordy comes back. You'll see why later.

And also, this chapter is basically how Raven makes herself known to Connor and how she thinks. Not a whole lot of action but we have to walk before we can run. Also, unlike my other fics, the view point of this story is going to shift from Raven to normal, hope this doesn't confuse anyone, I'll try to make the switched noticeable.

**And, I probably should have put these in the prologue, but here are the warnings: Angst, insanity, emotional instability, mentions of and/or attempted suicide, blood, violence, and lastly, sex. Can't handle, don't read. I won't mind**.

And for those of you that I haven't scared of yet, shout-outs:

Ok then…….on we go.

Eye of the Raven

Chapter One

First Impressions Are Everything

Blood………..

The smell of it filled the air, thick, suffocating, making it hard to even breathe without the scent filling your lungs. Some may have retched, hating it, even throwing up, but I only smiled, staring down at the scene with a feel of detachment.

Demons - the same demons I had summoned, tricked, and ultimately, in the end, lead to death - were attacking as I had predicted they would. Blood sprayed like a fountain, covering them, the walls of the dark alley, the ground and new victims splattered with their own and the blood of the ones that had died before them.

For a moment I almost felt pity as I sensed their spirits rising into the air around me. But whatever pity I had in me was quickly smothered by jealousy. They were dead, freed, liberated, and I was still here. My heart still beating, lungs still breathing, blood still flowing…….and the visions still coming. Why should I pity the dead?

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the waves of panic of the people being torn apart and almost doubling over. This was the only part of the night I loathed……… feeling it all as if it were happening to myself. And still, no pity came, only jealousy. I shook my head for a moment, as if to try and clear the feelings before looking back down at the streets below.

LA, the City of Angels. No wonder Angel came to live here. Probably made him feel important, like he was protecting his city, fulfilling his calling, inching closer and closer to redemption. I had to suppress a snort at that one. Why was that everyone was so damn worried about redemption, especially a creature that would live forever?

Hell, I had heard the even the infamous William the Bloody had gone and fetched himself a soul for some Slayer that didn't even really love him. I shook my head at the thought. To me, having a soul was one of the greatest curses of being alive. Why anyone would go through all these tests to get one was beyond me.

At least Angel had the right idea - having a soul was a curse. You felt remorse, sadness, depression, everything you did you questioned because of the soul within you. Even now…….as the people below me died, my soul was reprimanding me for my selfish actions.

My eyes flickered over the surrounding area, momentary panic coming over me. He should be here by now, someone at least, should be here by now. My eyes swiveled around wildly looking for anyone who looked like they could stop it. The feelings of panic were starting to effect me as well and I tried to suppress them.

Then out of nowhere I saw one of the demons fall, a wooden arrow embedded inside it's chest. I felt a small flicker of hope as I looked for the source, the attacker, and my eyes landed on him. The same boy of three nights ago, wearing a red sweater and bearing a crossbow which he seemed to know to use quite well.

I smiled coldly and inhaled the air, sorting out the different scents. Not to my surprise, the most prominent was blood, followed by demon, human and…….. I smirked as I caught his scent. It reflected his strange parentage - smelling nearly human, but with a touch of demon that should have been human. Indeed, his scent reflected what I would find out about him later - he didn't know what he was, much less how to be it.

I smiled a little and smelt the air, discerning his scent from the hundreds of others and following it. I tried to follow it from atop roofs, but it was so faint on the wind that I was forced to walk. I landed softly, too softly for anything human and continued tracking him.

I came upon a museum and cocked my head to the side in confusion. He was living in there I knew that, but I figured someone of half-demon stature would be in something better then this…….. but then I remembered that I was no-where at all. Sleeping under bridges, in allies, anywhere where I thought I might be safe and occasionally in the bed of someone who had left town.

But in the process of using their home, I would purge it of anything I thought useful. Money, jewelry, cigarettes, silver anything that would give me enough money to buy a few weapons, a meal and maybe a room for the night and a pack of cigarettes - but I hated it.

Me, Raven Boardadash, once the heiress of a wealthy family in the Middle Ages, was reduced to stealing beds and whatever else I could find to keep me alive. At the thought, I don't think I could've hated my Father more. Shaking the thoughts out of my head I walked into the apartment building. The door to the museum was locked but with a moment of intense focus, the lock slowly slid over, leaving me feeling slightly more tired then I did before.

I walked in, took in the images of stuffed animals and other things before following his scent until I came to a door that was undoubtedly his. It seemed to lead to an attic or something. Again, the door was locked. I sighed and again used my mind to open the lock. I stepped into the room and the first thing that came to my mind was arsenal.

The walls were lined with swords, arrows, stakes, daggers……. The list could go on for a long time to come. And to the left what appeared to be a necklace of teeth and bits of skin and bones was hung on the wall. And everywhere, his scent lingered.

I felt as if I had entered the room of the past as I looked at what clearly showed his past in Quar-toth. What confused me about the necklace though was that I thought the female spirit told me that it had gotten destroyed…….. I guess old habits died hard.

I turned around a few times to get a god view of everything before I remembered the task at hand. But it was hard to concentrate over the disturbing feeling of darkness that coated the apartment. Sadness and……. lust? Disappointment…… loss. I shook my head in an attempt to clear away the feelings.

With a hand that I hadn't realized was shaking I reached out and took one of the swords that were hanging in order of length of it's hanger. Predictably, I got a flash. Nothing huge, just a small flash of a dark-haired man I realized was his father, Angel. Evidently, he had something to do with this sword, something that Connor remembered.

I braced myself as I reached out for another sword, this time getting a flash of a green demon in a suit holding it out as if a gift. I sighed. This is how it was whenever I touched something that was owned by a mystic being, or a human inclined to power. I saw whatever attached them to it, the history, and the memory they had left upon it.

Evidently, Connor had a few memories. I hung the swords back up, deliberately out of place, leaving my mark. I wanted to first let him now that I was alive, existed, before I revealed myself. I picked up a few arrows - blissfully, he didn't seem to care about them - and placed them neatly on his bed.

I walked back to the wall and picked up a dagger. I got no image this time, just a name - Holtz. I smiled bitterly to myself, he appeared to still care about the man had taken him into a hell dimension and raised him. I wondered for a moment if he still thought of him as 'father'.

I examined the dagger closely before laying it on the bed for later. Instead, I busied myself with raiding his drawer, looking for anything that could buy me some food - I hadn't eaten since the previous night. I threw open the last drawer and smirked at seeing a small wad of bills. I pulled them out and counted sixty dollars.

The part of me - the thief - told me to take it all and find a room for the night, but humanity was determined to have it's say. I compromised by taking a twenty and leaving the rest. Stuffing it into my pocket I went back to the knife and made a small cut on my palm, letting the blood fall onto a piece of paper.

The cut itself didn't hurt, but I still let out a little hiss at the heat of the dagger. After a few drops I pulled my hand back, wiping the extra blood on my pants. I was about to put the dagger back when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his scent hit me. I don't know why I hadn't smelt it earlier.

A small wave of panic coming over me I hastily shoved the dagger into my pant pocket and ran for the window. In my panic, my powers ran a little wild and the window flew open of it's own accord. At the moment, and possibly for the first time, I wanted to kiss my mother for bestowing her powers on me.

I ran to the window and jumped out of it, not bothering to look back - I knew he was about three steps from reaching the door. Time seemed to stand still for me for a moment - the barely-there moment between hovering and falling when gravity realizes that you're there. In my panic, I hadn't had time to make a jump that would ensure I would land in my usual three-point and instead I landed hard on the ground before I rolled and landed on my back.

I groaned in pain before the smell of blood hit me - my own blood. I looked down and noticed the point of the dagger I stuffed in my pocket imbedded in my skin. I winced and got up, gingerly removing the blade and pressing my hand against the blood before realizing that their wasn't as much as I would have thought.

I tested my weight on my leg and saw that it would hold, for awhile at least. I cursed as I realized the money that I had intended for food only was also going to have towards bandaging. Berating myself for my own stupidity I headed towards a busy side of town in pursuit of food and now, bandaging.

Normal

He grunted as the last demon threw a surprisingly well-placed kick and his back hit the hard wall. However, the thing didn't have time to revel in it's kicking skill before the wooden arrow pierced it's chest, grayish blood spurting from the wound as it fell over, the arrow showing through it's back.

He sighed, wiping his forehead before putting away his weapon. The wailing of sirens filled the air and he quickly jumped onto a rooftop, hopped a few, and landed in another alley. Tired and dirty, he headed for what some might have called 'home.'

But he didn't have a home, not anymore. The home he had known had been a hell dimension in which he had slain demons with the only man he had considered a father - Holtz. The 'home' at the Hotel had been merely a place in which he had stayed until they had turned their backs on him. Not that he could blame them, however he felt that they could have done without letting Fred go taser happy.

Shaking away the memory of hundreds of volts of electricity going through his body he headed for the museum in which he stayed at the moment. He couldn't seem to call it home, not while Quar-toth still burned in his memory. As awful and hellish as it had been, he had been raised there and he carried a certain fondness for it - like the fondness a child will always carry for the first house they had been in.

Quar-toth held memories for him. The first time he had killed a demon, his first weapon, his first words, the first time he had been called 'The Destroyer'……. everything up until he was sixteen. And try as he might, those memories refused to fall into the hatred that he harbored for the place itself.

He turned a corner and saw the museum. Moving with the swiftness born of fighting to stay alive he went to the backdoor, fishing his key out of his pocket, wiped the demon blood off it and inserted it into the lock. The first thing that hit him was the faint smell of blood. Cocking his head to one side in curiosity he followed the scent.

He followed the it until he realized that it was coming from his 'apartment' and sped up. He reached his apartment door and threw it open, half expecting to see something bleeding on the ground, taking it's last breaths, but instead he saw nothing. Still, the smell was strong. A mildly puzzled look on his face he began looking around, but finding nothing, started to relax a little.

However, that didn't last long when he sensed rather then realized that something was off. Looking around he found out what it was fairly quickly. Two of his swords had been tampered with and arrows were lain neatly on his bed in what appeared to be some kind of Celtic shape. And on top of that, his window was wide open, the cool night breeze finding it's way into his 'bedroom.' Instantly on guard he drew out a small dagger as his eyes darted around, searching for some sign of the intruder.

His eyes landed on a piece of paper that he hadn't seen before and he picked it up, half expecting to be a ransom note of some kind. Instead, it contained droplets of blood. _So that's where the scent was coming from_. He brought the paper up to his face, taking a curious sniff and getting a better smell of the blood.

The first thing that hit him was the strong smell of magick and the vague smell of demon woven in amongst it. He could tell that the intruder was female, the smell of the blood held a obscurely feminine touch.

He sniffed the air, but the only sign that someone was in the apartment was the bloodied paper. He couldn't hear any heartbeats or anyone breathing. Frustrated, he crumpled the paper and threw it at the wall. _Whoever it was, she's gone now_, but for some reason that didn't comfort him. The fact that someone would rearrange his things and leave blood on a piece of paper somewhat disturbed him. He couldn't help the feeling that it was some kind of warning.

After all, hadn't the blood felt faintly demonic? He shook his head and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping down out of his filthy clothes and throwing them in the corner to clean later. He stepped under the shower head and let the hot water wash over him, instantly reveling in the calming effect of showers.

_Tomorrow_, he decided, _tomorrow I'll track down whoever it was and find out what the hell they're up to._

A/N:

Not the longest chapter in history, but it seemed like a good place to stop. And also, I re-wrote this chapter and I must say I'm much more satisfied with this version. It takes a few chapters before I can really get into it and starting writing well, so please bear with me. Anyways, please leave a review and tell me what you think!


	3. Cat and Mouse

Disclaimer: Believe me, you're one beyond lucky that I only own my characters and the plot.

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter, hot off the press! In this one, Connor and Raven finally meet, and things take an unexpected turn. I actually think I'm going to have fun writing this one. Neways, not much else to say so shout-outs:

Ok then……….enjoy.

Eye of the Raven

Chapter Two

Cat And Mouse

Connor awoke even before the sun had fully set, his desire to find the women who had been in his room and stolen his dagger overweighing his hatred for the sun. He dressed quickly in a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater before loading himself up with weapons. He browsed his selections before choosing two daggers and a stake, just for safe measure.

He locked the museum and stepped, blinking, into the street. Although the sun was setting, the brightness still hurt his darkness-accustomed eyes and it took a few moments before the pain was bearable. He pulled the paper out of his pocket and gave it another sniff before sorting out the scents on the street.

Tracking her would be difficult, but he had tracked under harder conditions then this back in Quar-toth. He smirked lightly as he caught the scent and began following it.

Raven

As usual, I awoke in an alley, stiff and sore from the hard ground. I stretched and winced at hearing my own bones crack despite being grateful that I could move properly again. I stood up, still slightly sore and took a look at my leg. The bandages contained a little blood, but all in all I seemed to be fairly sturdy and for once, happily feed.

But food wasn't the cause for my excitement as I looked around, noting my surroundings, it was the presence in the air, a presence that I - in my brief encounters - had come to associate with Connor. It was hard to describe, but I could sense him before I saw or even smelt him. It was his power that made my stomach clench in warning or excitement, I couldn't tell which.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind as I had so often done to any spirit or even to any human that could lend me their eyes. I flicked through a few different minds before I caught an image of him, near to here. My eyes opened and I jumped, landing on a rooftop and looking around. I saw him with my mind before my eyes. He was smelling me out, tracking me and was close to finding me.

I had to laugh at the dog-like manner in which he hunted, but it's humor didn't make it any less admiral. It would be immensely difficult to sniff out one person in an entire city, especially one this size. A left turn…….a right turn……..another right, my eyes followed him as he followed the twists and turns I myself had the previous night and finally……. I saw him in the alley below me, inhaling my scent.

But it wasn't my scent that I cared about at the moment - the air was filled with his. It was a soft mixture of vampire, sandalwood and male, slightly tinged with a faintly demonic aura.

Yes……..he was dangerous. My stomach clenched again in confirmation.

I slowly and begrudgingly lifted my body into a standing position, my stiff bones whining in protest. Some of them cracked just to prove their point. He walked towards the brick wall, obviously looking for some kind of concealment I may have used.

I smirked. He was right where I wanted him. Without hesitating I jumped from the building, landing in a three point behind him and ignoring the slight pain in my right leg. Faster then what even I had expected he whirled around, his fist connecting with my face and sending me into the wall where I braced myself, taken aback by his speed.

I stared at his face for a moment, eyes searching eyes for any sign of emotion. It hadn't hit me before just how beautiful he actually was, in that feminine kind of way that could attract both men and women alike. He was truly a work of art and I was more then satisfied with my choice for a killer.

I made the second move, breaking our eye contact with a shard spin kick to the face. It was a shame that I would have to risk marring him, but if it landed me Death, then it was a small price to pay. However, before I could even move again, he was back on his feet.

We spent a few moments trading blows before he kicked me in the stomach, the force slamming me back into the wall. I groaned as my body hit the hard cement. His eyes were locked on mine, bright blue and screaming of pain and power. The deadliest combination I knew. Still, he was silent, and I couldn't help the feelings of joy that being slammed into the wall had brought. He was going to kill me, he was actually going to kill me.

Only he wasn't moving.

"What?" I asked. "You're not going to kill me?"

"No." He answered casually and before I knew it, my feet were off the ground, his forearm pressing into my larynx. "Why were you in my room, witch? And what did you take from me?" He demanded. I said nothing, but was mildly surprised that he knew of my witch-hood so fast. But then-again, I was a blood-born which I reasoned, still gasping for air and secretly admiring the way he pressed against my throat just the right way. Not enough strength to knock me out, but enough to prove his point.

I loved it.

"Answer me." He replied calmly. "Or I'll crush you're windpipe." Hmmmmmm, not exactly like I had planned to go, but who was I to argue? I still said nothing, praying that he would go through with his words. But I never got to find out because that's when I first felt it. A slight throb in my temple as my body started to shake slightly. He had been touching me to long……. _Oh no……….. oh Gods no, not now!_ The pain began to increase and I mentally berated myself for letting him hold me here.

I should know by now that prolonged physical contact could bring on a vision regarding the person in question. A small whimper of pain escaped me, followed by a stream of curses that I knew were in my native tongue - the language of the demon clan my mother had been part off.

"You won't curse me witch!" He snarled, throwing me to the ground and breaking the contact but it was too late. The language was still coming from my mouth, I couldn't seem to stop it. The only word that was the same between the demon tongue and English……..

"No……" I whispered, silent willing for it to go away. It wasn't going to listen. Instantly I started to flashes of images…….a pretty blond haired girl, older then Connor but I could tell that he had feelings for her……. a dock, a man……Angel locked in a box……. the women trapped in a higher plane…….. gone…… but surrounded in people, people she didn't remember……….

I felt the hard ground behind me and my eyes flew open, and I could barely make out the outline of Connor before a single word escaped me and then everything went black.

"Cordeila………..."

Normal

Her eyes flew open, cold gray eyes with a black ring around the outside that screamed power. His weapon was ready to deflect the curse she no doubt was about to throw at him but what happened wasn't what he had planned on. Her lips moved to form a single name before she went limp.

"Cordeila." He repeated the name to himself, hope rising in him, but quickly smothered. _She's a witch! She's trying to use one of her tricks, her lies!_ But a different side in him that he didn't know existed was trying to reason.

How could she know about Cordeila? Witches could only see what they knew, and what they could extract from the minds of others….. he had never thought about Cordeila when she was around. _How do you know? She tampered with your room, who knows how long she's been watching you? Now kill her!_ He didn't move.

_Magick…….. it's coming off her in waves….._ The thought made him growl as his eyes rested on a silver necklace around her neck, bearing the sign of the pentacle. _Witch……….. I hate witches. They lie, they hurt, they're evil! Now kill her! _Yet, even as he gave himself the orders, he still didn't move. He stood there, torn between his overwhelming desire to rid the world of yet another witch, and his equal desire to find out why the hell she was in his room and what she might know about Cordy.

His stomach and heart gave a lurch at her name. She had been gone for months now, no-one knew where she was….. but this girl, this _witch_ might know something. He had been in the company of mystics long enough to recognize when someone was getting a vision - what if it had been about Cordy?

He stood there a little longer, curiosity fighting hatred. He looked down at her limp form and tried to find even a gram of pity for her. Her long black hair was fanned out behind her, her skin white against the ebony tresses. Curiosity and pity won.

_If it's one of her tricks, you can just kill her._ He tried to find comfort in the thought, tried to convince himself that this world, this _humanity_ wasn't making him soft. He didn't fully manage it. He reached down and picked her up, carrying her bridal style and surprised by how light she was, despite his unnatural strength.

He made his way back to the apartment, taking the back streets and alleys to avoid any unneeded questions. He opened the apartment door, holding her up with one arm and walked inside. He reached his bedroom and dropped her limp form rather unceremoniously onto the bed. She gave a slight bounce and stayed, the skin of her face smooth and relaxed as if she was merely sleeping and not totally unconscious.

He chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and he could here her heartbeat, ensuring that she was alive and not one of the many undead. Connor said nothing but walked over to the bed and checked her for weapons. He found his own dagger among a throwing knife and a small switchblade that she had cleverly hidden down her top.

Satisfied with getting his own snake-hilt dagger back and rendering her helpless except for her magick he merely sat on the dresser, watching her with intensity, ready to attack at the first sign of escape of trickery. One hour passed……..then two…….finally, upon approaching the third hour she began to stir and shift, letting out a little moan as she found his pillow.

However, she seemed to have noticed that she wasn't where she originally thought because she bolted up her eyes wide with surprise as she looked around and finally her eyes landed on him. She didn't move, seeming to sense that it would be an exceptionally unwise idea. Connor smirked, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she was cornered.

He casually stood up, throwing up his dagger and catching it before looking at her.

"I'm guessing you've been here before." He said, a entirely ill welcoming kind of leer on his face as he held up the formally stolen dagger. "I have a few questions……and if you plan on living, I suggest you answer them."

She said nothing, just stared straight ahead, into his eyes. There was no emotion in them. Words were on the tip of her tongue, but she knew better then to let 'What if I don't want to live?' past her lips and into his ears.

She looked around once more and discovered one thing she hadn't planned on.

She was disarmed, trapped, and completely at the mercy of him - and his questions.

_Oh shit……………_

A/N:

Again, not the longest chapter, but I have a feeling that next one is going to be fairly large. And again, I rewrote a portion of this chapter to get it the way I wanted it too. I'm still not overly thrilled about the ending but it was better then my original idea……… ok, enough about that disaster. Anyways, as always, if you have decided to up and read this fic, please do leave a review and make me very happy


	4. The Dance of Victory and Defeat

Disclaimer: You know, this never changes, no matter what I write for. I don't own it, just my character and her past.

A/N: OMG I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN YEARS!!!!!! i stopped writing this a long time ago becasue i got distraced, but i'm back writing it again, so enjoy! Ok, the beginning of this chapter is going to be a little strange because it's a recap, but in Raven's POV……. You'll see what I mean. And as usual, not much to say except that I hope this chapter turns out and shout-outs to you people:

Ok then……..here we go again!

Eye of the Raven

Chapter Three

The Dance of Victory and Defeat

Raven

I stirred and immediately snuggled into something soft that wasn't ground for once and inhaled the smell, freezing for a moment then instantly bolting awake as I realized that it was covered in Connor's scent. I looked around, everything seemed slightly familiar. My eyes finally landed on Connor himself and I froze, unable to move as everything came back to me.

He smirked before standing up and tossing my - well, his - dagger into the air before catching it and looking back at me.

"I'm guessing you've been here before." He said conversationally, but the welcoming didn't reach his eyes as he held up the dagger I had taken. "I have a few questions…… and if you plan on living, I suggest you answer them." I said nothing, but looked around, realizing that I was cornered.

I tried to hold in my panic…….. this wasn't how things were supposed to be! I wasn't supposed to get a fucking vision in the middle of the battle - I was supposed to be dead! Kissed by metal and sent on the way to eternal release to rejoin my mother. But of course, I could never have things my way. Someone up there in a higher plane hated me, I was sure of it.

I instinctively reached down into my pocket looking for my dagger and found it was empty.

"Looking for something, witch?" He said in a slightly teasing manner, holding up my dagger. "Doesn't feel right being robbed, does it?"

"I have a name." I bit out, he looked at me as if weighing his options. "It's Raven." He just shrugged, making no comment but accepting it. While he was looking in the other direction I shoved my hand down my top, looking for my secret weapon.

"You won't find it." He said simply, holding up the switchblade and pinning me with his ice blue eyes. "I took it when you were unconscious."

"You went down my top?" I asked, slightly offended at having been molested in my sleep, but at the same time excited in a strange way. I think I'm about two steps from or over insane. He merely shrugged again.

"I couldn't allow you to have weapons."

"I hope you got a good feel." I muttered, determined not to let him see that in a strange way, it was comforting but infuriating. If he could touch me, if his hands could create a feeling of heat on my pale skin, then I was alive. But the sheer fact that I could be used for no more then pleasure made me feel defiled, cheap.

"Believe me, I wouldn't feel a witch if you paid me." He muttered and I could instantly tell that he hated my kind. I didn't care really - I hated my own kind and my own power, wishing nothing but death upon myself. However, I didn't have to ponder this as the blade of my own knife was pressed against my throat. My heart raced with excitement - there was hope after all.

"How do you know about Cordy?" He demanded, blue eyes blazing in a way that told me he cared for whoever he was talking about. From what I was feeling, the feelings inside him for this women were strong, and yet, the love he felt seemed tinged with something deeper, a desire and lust for revenge.

"Cordy?" Who the hell was Cordy?

"Cordeila." He corrected. "You whispered her name before you passed out - and this better not be a trick."

"The blond." I whispered more to myself then to the boy were was staring at me in a slightly manic way, drinking in every word. "The one who disappeared." He pressed the knife harder against my flesh, the cool blade teasing me and yet causing no fear. Like raindrops on a window pane, touching something that I was, but I could never touch it myself.

I had had enough of his feeble attempts at intimidation - I decided to fire both guns. "Do it, Steven. Go ahead, destroy one more force of evil. Claim your name, you're place." I smirked at the reaction of my words. His eyes had widened at his former name and the slurs on his title of the 'Destroyer,' blazing with either sadness or anger, I couldn't tell. But I had to ask myself one thing - if he was known as the 'Destroyer', why wasn't he killing me? The thought was infuriating and I wondered why every time I tried to get myself killed they either died or were too damn weak to do it.

"You think you're tricks and ancient tongues will work on me?" He demanded and I settled on anger. I didn't know if I was supposed to answer so I kept my mouth safely glued shut. "Do you?" His fist came out before I had even seen it and hit me across the head, throwing it back so that it hit the wall. I groaned in something similar to pain and blinked a few times momentarily disoriented. I opened them again and fixed my eyes into a glare, trying not to let the feelings of elation and pride show through. Maybe he had it in him after all - he wasn't afraid to hurt me if it got what he wanted.

Most people would have called it selfish, but for some reason, it caused a deep admiration in me. He wasn't afraid to hurt me. He burned with the fires of newfound pity and humanity in his veins, burned with the caring and love in this world, and yet, he would strike me and not think twice. I prayed that the fire never burned his strength away and left him an emotionally weak train-wreck. I prayed he never lost his ability to strike me if I called for it.

And still, the temptation to test him was too strong to resist. If I was going to be trapped in this corner, I should at least throw out some tests of my own, to gauge his reactions as he was gauging mine. Indeed, it was a dance that were both dancing, trying to predict each others footsteps and create a pattern all our own. My head was still slightly sore and it only made me want to play harder.

I wanted to see him angry, wanted to see that fire first hand. I was like Athena's suitors breaking into the house of the warrior, hoping that he would get angry enough to kill him and find his courage. I wanted him to find his strength to kill me. I wasn't worried about courage, I knew he had it. All he had to do was let it go.

"Come down to brutalizing women now, Noble Steven?" I taunted and like I said earlier, I couldn't help it. Despite my desire to poke and prod him, there was an underlying menace in these words that I didn't know was there until I uttered them myself. If there was one thing I hated it was being cornered and weak and he was making me feel both. Smitten as I was with him, I was quickly beginning to hate him as well as being fascinated. But this was good. That meant that not all my anger and malice had to be feigned. I could play the game better if I was tainted with hate as he was sure to be.

"You're no women." He bit out. "You're a monster filled with tricks and lies and I won't be part of it!" I don't why those words hurt. I had been called many things over the years ranging from wench to demon but 'monster' had never been among them. But it wasn't the word itself that surprised me - it was the fact that it even hurt me. I had thought that I had long ago lost the ability to hurt or feel pain. Even to laugh or smile, or to hate…… and yet, within mere minutes, he was awakening my long dead emotions. I both hated and commended him for it.

He was truly unique, but I didn't know if it was this uniqueness that would be my emotional downfall. In all honesty, he was beginning to frighten me as the emotions churning in me did. I wanted to puke my feelings all over him and let him feel what being re-awoken like this felt like.

"How would you know?" I retorted in a petty defense that even I knew was pathetic. "You don't know me! You can't even get my name right!" The words were feeble, hollow, and sounded like something a child on a playground would say. _Come on, Raven, you can do better then this._

"I know what you are." He hissed as he wrist flicked, landing the blade at my throat again. "And I won't kill you until you tell me what I want to know. I'm not going to give you want you want." I wondered of the word 'shock' was written on my face. He knew I wanted to die - he _knew._

I looked up to see him smirking slightly and I guess he could see my shock although I tried to make my face unreadable. He knew I wanted to die………the thought disturbed me a little, that he would know something so intimate so quickly. Maybe it was just my deep-seated paranoia but it made me wonder what else he could know about me. Maybe I was right about his eyes - they penetrated you, went inside you and read everything in your mind. I had to look away from him and I was sure he assumed that he had won round one by a long-shot. He would have been right.

With a few simple words, my carefully constructed game plan feel apartment at the seams. I had to make a new one and fast before he could throw anything else at me. I made a vow to myself to be unshakable. Expect the unexpected and I'd be fine…….. so why did I suddenly feel like a bug under a microscope, still alive and wriggling to get free while a pin was stuck through me to hold me still? It was unnerving and made my head swim, unable to elaborate on my game plan until he would look away.

He obviously hated magick, but I was sure that he had some himself to do this to me. How many times had I played these games and won hands down? And already, my best cards were used up after not even a day. Somehow, I felt inadequate. I decided to play the brutal honesty card.

"What is it you want to know, Your Highness?" I replied, still feeling the cold metal. Funny, how strange I was. Most people trembled in fear in the light of weapons, and here I was shaking because he had just turned to tables and I wanted nothing more then for it to go into my throat.

"What do you know about Cordy?" Of course - typical male wanting to know about the woman. Wait, no. He wasn't typical, wasn't even close. I was sure that if he was typical, he would bleeding on the ground, dead and robbed by now. I couldn't even think straight anymore and I realized I had met my match. Still, brutal honesty prevailed - it was all I had for now.

"That she's in a higher plane." I answered, spilling out the knowledge my vision had bestowed upon me, the feelings of hers that had entered me. "And she's bored." I added as an afterthought. The words were kind of funny. She was a higher being then mere mortals, blessed with going to a higher plane and escaping these creatures and still, she was bored and missing her friends. The fire of her humanity burned hot in her and I shrugged away from it like a disease. My humanity was long gone…….. good riddance.

"What else?" He demanded. His voice was harsh but I couldn't help but notice the hopeful glint in his eyes. So he had a soul, a look in his eyes that reminded me of a hopeful child. In a way, I found it pathetic, but clearly reflected on the number of times I had looked like that, at least in the beginning before I had slaughtered the child within me and anointed my face with the blood to sanctify her death. I preferred not to count.

"She's coming back." I answered, knowing that it was what he wanted to know, needed to hear. For a moment, I felt almost taken advantage of before I asked myself what else I would do without my damn visions if not to help the helpless and warn to weak. A wave of disgust broke over me and I almost wanted to vomit.

I wasn't a hero, I wasn't a protector and yet, somehow I felt compelled to warn people of future accidents and even pull some divine intervention when I had to. I laughed darkly at the thought of _and I thought Connor was confusing_. Indeed, I had managed to confuse myself more in the last few moments then Connor had all night. It was times like this that only sanctified the deep-seated thought that I had long ago crossed over the fine line between sanity and madness. Looking back, I can't remember exactly when I realized, but over time it became a fact. Like one plus one equaled two. I knew it and never questioned it.

I looked up to see him looking at me with those eyes, probably wondering what I had laughed about. I wished to the Gods that he would stop looking at me, and yet, I was fixed on him. Gray and blue in a silent war that was being waged, the bedroom was suddenly a battle ground. It was so strange to be fighting a war without any bloodshed, the thought seemed to threaten the destruction of everything I had ever known. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

A caught a few flashes from his mind without meaning to, mostly of the blonde girl, Cordeila. I felt the worry radiating off him, the way his stomach was clenching with anticipation and nerves. I wondered why he cared so much. And before I knew it, the words came flying out of my mouth. I really should get a lock for it at times.

"Why the hell are you so concerned? You her brother or something?" I knew the answer before it left his mouth. There was too much passion inside him for the love to be sisterly, and besides, they looked nothing alike. I caught a quick flash of her holding him, but it was gone before I make it out. However, it gave me enough to know that something private had happened between them, something that had made them bond.

"No."

"Didn't think so." I said with a sigh. "There was too much passion." Why am I talking? Why am I elaborating? What the hell am I doing? In an hour he had me talking more then I had in days, weeks maybe. My mouth just seemed to become exceptionally loose around him and it made me leery. I wasn't going to establish trust with him, I wasn't going to bond with him despite the fact that he seemed just as loose-tongued as I was. He seemed the silent type.

He slowly lowered the knife before fixing his eyes on me in a way that seemed to pin me to the wall. Such power was reflected in his eyes and still I found myself wishing that he could find something else to gawk at. His eyes were burning me with the life inside him. I wanted to recoil, like Devil's Snare did from fire and light.

"She's for sure coming back?" He asked, and again I saw the hopefulness in him. It was almost childlike in a disturbing way. He was so dark and tainted, and yet pieces of him were purely innocent. I don't think he'll ever make sense to me. "Why should I trust you?" He tried to make himself sound indifferent, but his tone betrayed him.

To him, trust meant total honesty and devotion. Only when there was that, and the person had proven it would he allow himself to trust. He tried to make himself seem tough about it, but I knew that he was building a wall around himself and the world. Trust meant letting someone in. I wondered how many times he had been hurt. I blocked out how many times I experienced betrayal.

"Maybe because I'm the person you just beat, threatened, and interrogated." My words were flat, dead, hollow. I didn't care, but I couldn't help throwing out the next comment, the next step of our dance. "And because you have no choice." I wondered what he would do to that. I wondered if his love for this women would outweigh his hatred for witches, but he said nothing, keeping his mind carefully guarded.

He placed the knife on the bed and sat on the dresser again, staring into space. Did this mean that he trusted me with leaving a weapon so close to me? Or was it merely another test? I wasn't going to bite the bait and give him a reason to confirm his paranoia that I wanted to kill him.

I knew it was risky, but I carefully reached out to his mind with my own. I only managed a few quick images of an ocean and a metal box before his head snapped in my direction, eyes blazing with a haunting fury. I prepared to die.

"Don't you ever read me." The words were said quietly, but held all the authority of a window shaking shout. He had an usual ability to hold people's attention with no effort at all, a tendency to make people obey him with mere words and his presence. I wondered if he was somehow related to Hitler before I remembered that he was of Irish descent. Even if I hadn't know who his father was, the name alone could have told me. Connor….. very Irish.

"How did you-?" I never got to finish my question, but I had never intended to. That and I knew damn well how he knew I was entering his mind, I just wanted to hear him say it. Give me a window of opportunity to try and reach him. He let out a little bitter sound that sounded something like a laugh.

"I grew up in Quar-toth." He answered, his eyes still diverted and the knife still between us. I knew he could see it in the corner of the eye. "You think I didn't learn to recognize magic when it was being used on me?"

"So if you hate magic so much why don't you just get on with killing me? Injuring me at least and rendering me helpless?" I prayed I didn't sound to hopeful, but to me, it sounded more taunting. It was a challenge. _Come on, Connor. You have the strength to hurt me, you have the courage_. Again, bitter laugh.

"I don't grant wishes." He muttered, eyes downcast in a way that told tales of his former wishes, but of what, I couldn't tell. He had long blocked his mind from me. "Besides, I want to know if you're telling the truth about Cordy."

"How many times have I told-"

"I'll see for myself." He answered, cutting me off in that annoying way of his and leaving us in a heavy silence. I took this time to mentally berate myself for my stupidity at letting him keep me in that hold and bring on a vision about a women that he was clearly infatuated with. I wondered how deep it went, if it was an obsession, lust, or deep and true love. For some reason, the last option made slightly jealous. Perhaps it was because I wanted him for myself, to test and study without anyone getting in the way. Poor little selfish creature I was, but so beyond caring. I was pathetic, there was no questioning it now.

"You love her don't you?" I asked suddenly after a few moments of tense silence. He gave a little start and turned to look at me. So I had managed to catch him off guard. I liked that. Maybe I wasn't totally powerless in this situation. The fact that I was able to startle him, that he couldn't predict me, was oddly comforting.

"Why do you ask?" The question was calculated, guarded. The question was enough to give me an answer all it's own.

"Well, if you're going to keep as a hostage, I might as well get to know you." I answered with a shrug, making a stab at casual conversation and hiding the fact that I was slowly trying to unravel him. I have a feeling he wouldn't like that much.

"I don't want to get to know you, witch." He replied simply. He was good. Hiding insecurity with cruelty. He didn't want me to know that he loved her, he wanted to protect her. It was almost sweet in an infuriating kind of a way. I wanted to split his skull with an ax and read everything inside him. Instead, I settled for an attempt at being civil.

"It's Raven." I said through gritted teeth. If I was going to be held her, I was going to make sure that he knew my name. I wanted to at least get inside him, even if it was only through my name on his tongue. I wanted to spell my name in blood so that he wouldn't forget it. "R-a-v-e-n."

"I know how to spell." The words were harsh. I wondered if he was a little offended, wondered if he thought I was trying to insult his intelligence. Another insecurity. I wondered how many he had. "Funny that you should be named after the bird that leads the souls of the dead."

"Ya, downright fucking ironic." I muttered, letting my anger slip as I read between the lines. He was calling me a killer and a being that communicated with spirits, but it was clever the way he disguised it as a casual statement. For a moment I wondered if he was playing the game back at me, taking statements and seeing how I would interpret them. More paranoia on my part, I was sure. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling and it bothered me.

What happened to being unshakable?

More silence and I found that I was rapidly starting to hate him, but at the same time, he awed me. His power, his wit, his androgynous sort of beauty, ivory skin, much like my own marble white flesh - even his unusual ability for making me angrier and more emotional then I could even remember being since at least a century ago in a matter of minutes……. all of it made my stomach clench in a slightly painful way, sort of like cramps.

Someone had once told me that it took a lot of hate to match a lot of love. I prayed to every God and Goddess I knew that that statement would never be true for me. Maybe I was as afraid of love as he was. For some reason, that thought made me feel safe.

If fear held back love, then I wouldn't even think twice about gulping it down like a favorite beverage. Look from afar, test and torture, but never get close enough to get a backhand. I didn't know where those words had come from, but they seemed to safe to me. They seemed real.

I sighed, leaning back against the wall, content to study his face and try to read his thoughts through his eyes. I liked his eyes, really, when they weren't pinned on me. They were blue like an ocean, and as deep with secrets and past pains. I could tell that despite his pale white skin, he was as dark as the night. Again, this comforted me. Maybe it's just that misery loves company…….

Then a saw a small flash of color surround him before it disappeared. His aura. It didn't surprise me that it was yellowish gray. Negativity, death, mental health issues, spiritually in need and lastly, lacking direction. He reminded me of myself and I suppose in a way I felt connected to him despite my anger. But even that seemed too much for me, too close, but it couldn't be helped.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew I wanted to die because he did - or had wanted to - as well. Back to the phrase 'takes one to know one'…… I wondered if it was the same for suicidal people. Was it like bees, a pre-written path that were meant to take, never wondering why, just following the flock, looking for our own kind.

"How soon?" The question jolted me out of my reverie and I looked up to see his eyes on me. I couldn't think.

"Huh?" I was hoping for something witty, a sarcastic remark and was deeply disappointed in myself when I heard that one word leave my mouth. How common, and how utterly lacking in originality. I wanted to hide my face in shame of the stupidity of that one damn word. What was wrong with me? Oh yes…….it's those eyes again……. I remember now……….. fucking bastard.

"How soon will she come back witc- Raven?" He had used my name……… and won round two. He was starting to annoy me with his surprises and secrets. He was like a maze I was stuck in and someone kept changing it around. But in a way, the thought of the unknown within another being intrigued and excited me. He wasn't like the other humans whose lives were so boring it was a miracle that not all of them killed themselves just for something to do out of sheer boredom. I contemplated his question for a moment, trying to find an answer myself.

"I have no idea." I answered truthfully. "I only know what the visions show me, but I would imagine soon, she's been up there for awhile." I didn't add the fact that she could rot up there for all I cared. I could tell that he wasn't totally satisfied with my answer, but he took it in with a quiet acceptance that for once didn't hold tension, but something close to peace. I hoped it wasn't the eye of the storm.

He shifted a bit on the dresser and lit a cigarette before offering one to me. Would the surprises ever end? I mumbled thanks and took one, fishing for my lighter. At least he hadn't taken that away.

"You don't look the smoking type." I knew it was lame, but the silence was starting to get to me. He just shrugged taking a drag.

"I don't really know why I started." He mused casually. I just nodded, smoking quietly. I knew it was a stupid idea seeing as I was half demon and immune to mortal sickness, but for a moment I thought I could feel the smoke slowly poisoning me. For a moment, I really was in love with hydrogen cyanide.

My eyes flicked around the apartment and landed on his necklace of bone collections before he spoke to me again.

"It was you that rearranged my stuff wasn't it." It wasn't a question, but I hadn't expected it to be. There was too much evidence against me. I couldn't help but smirk as we both sat within a poisonous cloud of countless cancer-causing chemicals. It was almost beautiful, like being in a gas chamber, but knowing you won't die. It gave me a strange sense of immortality, only punctuated by the fact I couldn't die, at least not yet. Great, what was formally lifting my spirits was now making me depressed.

"I was wondering when this was going to come up." I answered meekly, feeling more at ease thanks to the nicotine in my system. "Yes, I did. I took your dagger, moved your swords and left a Celtic symbol with your arrows." How is it that I could make this seem so casual? And why had I left out the twenty dollars?

"What did the symbol mean?" He was guarded, still afraid of my witchcraft, of the symbols that induced curses and misery. I considered having some fun with this before I decided on honesty. Don't ask me why.

"It meant Destroyer." I replied simply. "I thought it was fitting." Again, no words, but silent acceptance. A trademark of someone who had been on their own far too long. Again, I saw myself, and again, it disturbed me.

"The sun's coming up." I looked towards the window and saw a pale orange glow that was only slightly distinguishable from the thousands of lights.

"So it is." I looked over at him, my eyes asking all the questions.

"You're not going anywhere." He answered calmly. "Not until Cordy is back." I couldn't help the words 'trade one women for another' from popping into my mind, but I sealed them at my mouth. Think warm bed.

"So what's your plan?" I asked, trying to seem to casual. "Tie me up in a chair while you sleep? Tie me to the bed? Chain me to the door by my ankle?" For some reason, he seemed amused. A ghost of a smile was on his face. Wow, didn't know he could smile. For some reason, I counted it as a victory among my many defeats. I made him react, me - 1, Connor - two. Oh to feel the bitterness of defeat.

"I don't sleep often." He muttered and I realized that he really was far too paranoid for his own good. What, was he afraid that someone was going to break into his house in the middle of the day? However, I wasn't going to argue. I got the whole bed to myself.

"Suit yourself." I muttered and wriggled under the covers, relishing the warmth and softness. I realized my boots were missing, not that I cared. My head hit the pillow, covered in his smell, but beggars can't be choosers. I don't know long it took me to fall asleep, but it couldn't have been long because one moment I was thinking about something and the next, everything was peacefully black.

A/N:

Wow…….. didn't intend for the chapter to drag on so much, sorry. Well, there you have it, a first class ticket into how Raven thinks. I'm actually quite proud of how this chapter turned out seeing as I was having trouble getting this fic to suit my liking. I mean, Connor is a complicated character and I want to do him justice so sometimes it takes a few rewrites. And for those of you who haven't guessed yet, this romance is going to take a while to develop because as you can see, things are going to be complicated….. and I mean really complicated, especially when Cordy enters the picture. But for now, please leave a review and tell me what you think so far!


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